Distress Express

I am procrastinating studying for my Spanish quiz tomorrow morning. So the logical thing to do is to stay up until 2 a.m. and occasionally glance at conjugations.

Well, Jen, I'll cut you some slack because as long as you have a page of recopied notes with "Study Guide" scrawled at the top, you must be exceptionally - heck, excessively - ready.

Plus, even though you won't be able to open your eyes tomorrow when you wake up at 7 a.m. for a pathetic cram session, you will miraculously pull through!

To assuage some guilt, I whip out my planner and scribble down internship applications I finished earlier.

Then I cross them out.

Don't be fooled into thinking I am an unmotivated procrastinator. I am not trying to obscure the reality that I do study diligently.

I continually waive enticing opportunities such as watching the latest "Modern Family," Facebook-stalking my mom or video chatting with my golden retrievers, to spend my nights in Boatwright and thus indulge in the inimitable rush of crossing that pesky project off my to-do list.

Regardless, the opportunity cost of nights spent in the quiet room, Gottwald or B2 is sometimes our sanity.

Rewind two weeks: I am walking to the Pier around 8 a.m. to grab my usual egg-and-cheese biscuit, absorbed with worries of the homework I must complete before my first class.

While debating whether I can afford to spring for a light roast with hazelnut from 8:15 - don't get me started on my dining dollar consumption - I spot a familiar figure ahead.

As I inch closer to dining dollar debt, reality is confirmed. Oh dear, it's her.

Now, my friend - we'll call her Loretta the Laggard - has a problem.

At 1 a.m., Loretta makes a nightly trek from her B1 lair to the first floor of Boatwright.

Loretta feels indominitable with caffeine from two 24-ounce coffees pumping through her veins.

Seven hours of sleep? Merely the suggestion of a shabby doctor. This girl is more than capable of scraping together a 7-page political theory paper due tomorrow and studying for an accounting test less than 10 hours away.

I raise my eyebrows in a mixture of empathy and disgust.

"Lotty," I say. "Really? Two nights in a row?"

She lets out a tired giggle and shrugs.

"The security men gave me the same reaction at 4 a.m.," she says. "They were like, 'You again?'"

Some would say Loretta has issues with time management. But is it the laggard in her that is the problem?

The school day is a blur of classes, homework and tests. Is it really that crazy to jot down completed assignments merely to cross them out to feel accomplished when you embark on a study session that will last until 3 a.m.?

You finish one paper or test and suddenly you have two quizzes and a project to worry about.

I suppose it would help Lotty, me and thousands of college students across the country to spend our weekend nights crafting rough drafts and making flashcards.

Occasionally this is unavoidable. But frankly I'm elated when I'm taking a study break and log into Facebook to find an event invitation for Thursday's Downtown at Vision Ultra Lounge.

My parents may argue that Thursday is not considered the weekend and of course I aspire to be an exceptional student. But remember when I mentioned sanity?

The media constantly harps on the "best four years of your life" via shows such as "Greek," thus adding more pressure to be a social butterfly.

And for social butterflies, too many Thursdays or Fridays spent in the library equates to instant ennui.

This does not bode well for your self-respect when, on Saturday, you attempt to compensate for your night(s) of boredom. You know what kind of night I am referring to:

Blasting "Like a G6" (purely to stress the 'yes, you are not at the library' factor) alone in your room by 6 p.m., mass-texting your friends - still at the gym or (sigh) library - to get ready ASAP, slurring "When we drink we do it right getting SLIZZARD" when they arrive at 8:30 p.m., taking an embarrassing number of selfies of you and a very casual acquaintance at a pregame and later "bo-moing" the creepy foreign student in your stats class.

And then seeing him (or her) the next week at every possible dining, studying and recreational spot on the Richmond campus.

Just ask Loretta.

Just kidding. But really, the work-hard, play-hard environment is a de facto way of life for Richmond students. Sure, the weekend would be a prime opportunity to actually get ahead.

But I think come Friday I'd rather hop off the Distress Express, thank you.